


(Not So) Innocent

by levele3



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 90's Music, Alternate Universe - Human, Babysitting, Chance Meetings, Dancing, F/M, Gen, Growing Up, Kid Fic, Kid Marianne, Multi, Past and Present, Strange Magic, Teen Bog, The 90's, clubs, growing up 90's, now and then, tw: 90's references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8333992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: It's the summer of 1997, Spice Girls rule the airwaves and 15 year-old Bog King is forced into a part-time job babysitting the two girls down the street. 12 years later he runs into a very grown-up Marianne Faye. Chapters will go back and forth between the years.





	1. Summer 1997

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this to Tumblr a while ago but I have some more written and would like to keep it all together on here.

“I don’t need a babysitter” Marianne whined to her mother for not the first time that night.

“I’m old enough to look after myself, you said _so_!” Marianne stomped her foot on the verge of a tantrum.

“Yes that’s right, you _are_ old enough to take care of yourself Mari, but _not_ old enough to look after Dawn.” Mrs. Faye slipped some gold hoop earring through her ears as she placated her daughter.   

Marianne is mulling this over when the doorbell rings.

“That’s the sitter now” her mother says, she leans forward and kisses Marianne’s forehead leaving behind a faint imprint of her lipstick.

“Please be good for Bog, and help your sister put her PJ’s on” Mrs. Faye pleads.  

Marianne isn’t a bad child she’s just stubborn, not difficult just likes to challenge the world around her. She takes nothing at face value and her mother couldn’t be more proud of her.

Marianne chases after her mother hoping to find one more reason to make her stall, but it’s too late. Her father has already answered the door and a tall skinny boy in his early teens stands in their foyer. Her father is shaking the boy’s hand, telling him to “ _help yourself to the snacks_ ” while her mother assures him, “ _we won’t be too late, shortly after twelve I think_.” 

Dawn emerges from the playroom, still dressed in her fairy costume searching for one more goodnight kiss and hug, and then her parents are gone and it’s just the three of them. The boy hasn’t even taken his sneakers off yet and he rubs his neck awkwardly as he watches them.

Bog is really nervous. He’s never babysat before. If it wasn’t for his meddling mother he could be home playing on his new Nintendo 64.  

His mother’s grating voice still haunts him, _“I was chatting with Mrs. Faye down the street, you know dear the one with the two little girls, anyway she was looking for a sitter for Friday night and I told her you were available… Your first job darling, just think you can buy a new game with the money you make.”_

The older one was glaring at him, hands firmly on her narrow hips, her head is tilted in a way that makes her asymmetrical bob almost look even. She’s wearing black leggings and a too-big plum coloured t-shirt that hangs to her knees. The little one is currently hiding behind her big sister’s leg eyeing him just as warily. She’s in a blue dress-up gown that has matching blue and silver butterfly wings attached to the back and her tiny head is haloed with pale blonde curls. She’s sucking her thumb.

“I’m Bog” he finally says with a tiny wave, he feels stupid standing at the bottom of the stairs while they look down on him from above. 

“I’m Marianne, I don’t need a babysitter” Marianne says tilting her head the other way. The boy sounds funny, his voice is different from anyone she’s ever heard.

Bog bends down to remove his Chuck’s. 

“What about the wee one?” he asks.

“That’s Dawn, she doesn’t like you.” Marianne huffs.

“Why not?” Bog has every right to be affronted, they’ve only just met.

“Because you’re a boy, and she doesn’t like boys, boys are yucky and have cooties” Marianne explains this as if it’s a fact of life and Bog is an idiot for not knowing it.

“Yeah, cooties” Dawn says with all the authority a five-year-old can muster. 

Bog starts making his way up the stairs and Dawn shrieks and runs for the playroom. Marianne holds her ground though and stands firm at the top of the stairs so he bends down to her level.

“I don’t need a babysitter” she repeats, looking him dead in the eye.

His lip curls into a snarl, he likes her spunk and determination. It’s as though if she says something enough times she’ll believe it to be true.

“Sure ye dorn’t, Tough Girl” he says, maintaining her fierce eye contact.

 _They can smell fear…_ but then she gives a slight nod of her head, as if he’s passed some agreed upon test and she turns and walks calmly down the hall. 

One Hour Later:

“Release my sister you scaly-backed cockroach!” Marianne shouts lunging at Bog with her white plastic sword.

“Never!” Bog parries her attack with the broomstick handle.

Marianne jumps from the arm of the loveseat to land square on the chair, she dislodges the cushion when she jumps again and summer saults in the air, only to land on her feet again in front of him. She takes a defensive stance.

“Impressive”, Bog hisses in what he hopes is a good enough villain voice.  

Marianne was playing at being a brave knight sent to rescue her fairy-princess sister who had been kidnaped by the evil wizard.

 “Flattery will get you nowhere” Marianne jeered, lashing out with her plastic sword and smacking Bog on his boney knee.  

“Ow!” damn she was quick! He fell to the ground in an exaggerated movement, on his knees he was almost shorter than the girl. He drops the broomstick and it rolls under the couch.

She towers over him and looks more menacing than any eight-year-old has any right to be. She levels the point of her toy sword somewhere to the left of his heart, closer to his armpit.

“Go ahead, kill me” he whispers, “but you’ll never see your sister again” he curls his lip and narrows his eyes.

She only hesitates a moment before cleanly sliding the toy between his arm and chest, right to the hilt, and he falls backwards in fake agony.

Marianne dashes past him, runs to where her sister lays in the mock dungeon waiting to be rescued and stops. 

“Dawn fell asleep” Marianne says monotone. 

He thinks she might be sad their game is over. Bog opens his eyes and reads the time on the clock upside-down. It’s almost quarter after eight and Dawn was supposed to be in bed by eight. His first task as a babysitter and he’s failed at it.

Bog rolls over and his knees and back crack as he stands up, but Marianne already has little Dawn in her arms. 

It’s almost half-an-hour later when Marianne comes back down the hall, she’s wearing a nightgown that goes to her ankles, it’s grey and has Ariel on it, in her hand she carries a book. Bog prays that she doesn’t ask him to read to her and his prayers are answered when she sits in the chair and flicks on the reading lamp.

Without a word she opens the book to her last page and starts reading. Bog turns his attention back to the show on TV. He’s taken Mr. Faye’s advice and poured out a small bowl of plain chips. Mrs. Faye told him Marianne was allowed to stay up until nine to read so she was fine for a while still.

After a while Bog got curious. He kept looking at the cover of her book, it was unfamiliar to him which was odd because he read a lot.

“What are ye reading, Tough Girl?” he asked eventually. 

Without bringing her head up Marianne replies, “It’s called _Harry Potter_. I got it as a grading present.”

Bog had never heard of it, “What’s it about?” he asked.

This time she looks up and over at him, “It’s about a boy who has to live with his awful aunt and uncle until a giant comes to tell him he’s a wizard and then he goes to the special wizard school.”

Marianne’s eyes lit up as she spoke and her voice became high with excitement. It was the same joy she had exhibited when they were playing rescue the princess. 

“I’ll let you borrow it, when I’m done, if you want.” Her voice got small again and Bog watched the light die just a little bit. It was as though she wasn’t sure if she’d said the right thing or not.

“It sounds interesting, I’d like to read it” Bog encouraged, anything to see that light come back.

Her eyes sparkled ever so slightly and he got a small smile for his efforts. Bog doesn’t know what it is about her, one minute she is so fierce and outspoken and the next she shrinks and becomes guarded. People have made fun of her for her interests before he realizes. She’s very passionate though and he thinks that will take her a long way.

Bog lets Marianne read well past nine, he keeps glancing over at her, expecting to see that she’s fallen asleep but her nose is buried in the book and her eyes zoom across the page with eager anticipation.

At ten o’clock _Beetlejuice_ comes on, Bog’s never seen it and it has a warning about language. He looks over at the chair to see Marianne has fallen asleep, her head is propped against the wing, the book lays open on her lap. Halfway through the movie Bog feels two little hands grab at his arm and he nearly jumps off the sofa.

Marianne is there watching the movie with rapt attention, no doubt drawn in by the bright colours and calypso music. She jumps when the railing on the stairs turns into a snake.

 _“We’ve come for your daughter Chuck”_  

It’s a phrase Marianne will end up repeating many times over the first few weeks of summer.

She stays awake until the end then silently gets up and goes to bed without so much as a “good night” to Bog.

Bog ends up babysitting the girls that whole summer, looking after them two to three days a week and usually a Friday or Saturday night once or twice a month. Instead of spending the money on games for his N64 he saves most of it, he’ll be turning sixteen soon after all and knows his mom won’t be able to afford to buy him a car.

He takes a part-time job at the hardware store, but still looks after the Faye sisters four to six times a year for the next two years.  The last time he sees Marianne Faye he’s eighteen years-old and she’s just turned eleven. He’s off to college and she’s sad because she didn’t get a letter from Hogwarts.  

Twelve Years Later…


	2. Spring 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While out celebrating his birthday Bog runs into someone from his past.

The club is loud and packed, Bog can barely hear his two friends over the wordless thumping music.

“What about her?” Stuff shouts elbowing Thang in the ribs.  

Following her line of sight Thang’s eyes widened and he enthusiastically nodded his head.

Bog rolls his eyes but turns his head to see who they’re talking about now. He’s out celebrating his birthday with his two closest friends; they are supposed to be helping him forget how old he is by buying him shots of _Don Julio,_ and helping him get laid. _When did I get so old, I can’t believe I’m turning thirty tomorrow_ , he thinks.

It’s easy to spot the woman Stuff was referring to she sticks out in the otherwise bland crowd. She’s a rocker’s wet dream come to life, in a pair of tight jean shorts layered over black fishnets and an old Ramones t-shirt that has been artfully cut open in the back giving tantalizing glimpses of her pale flesh and a lacy violet bra. She’s wearing two different sneakers, her left shoe is a black Converse high-top and the right is low-rise and plum. Bog’s mouth has gone dry, his jaw unhinged at the sight. 

Absently he reaches for his bottle of Coors but the liquid misses his mouth. The rocker chick is dancing to the beat of her own drum. She doesn’t do the monotonous shuffle of the general masses but actually moves her feet, her whole body, she doesn’t have a dance partner, doesn’t need one, they’d only get in her way. Dancing for her is a religious experience even her eyes are closed, her short purple hair is windswept and Bog can see sweat dripping down her brow in the stray lights. The only thing he can’t get a full view of is her face, not with her back to him and her head swaying like it is.

He is in love. He knows he’s been staring too long, his jeans have become uncomfortably tight, but damn she’s some sort of rock goddess and he knows a woman like her will never give him the time of day. Bog turns back to tell Stuff not to bother, it’s a lost cause but he’s too late. The chair previously occupied by Stuff is now empty. The song ends and Bog spins around again searching the crowd for his friend and the out-of-his-league goddess. He spots them at the bar. They take a couple shots of something purple, Porn Star probably, as Stuff causally chats up the woman.  

She’s bopping her head and Bog can’t tell if it’s to the music or in agreement with what Stuff is saying. He quickly turns around when he sees Stuff begin to guide the woman over to their table. 

“Thanks, I was having the worst night, my friends ditched me, my sister is on a date, and all I wanted to do was dance and just forget about real life, you know?”  Bog can hear the woman talking to Stuff as they approach the table from behind, she sounds tired, like the world has worn her out.

“I know what you mean” Stuff agrees, “you can hang with us until your sister comes.”

They round the side of the table and Bog looks up at last into the face of the girl of his dreams.

“Hey guys, this is-” Stuff begins to introduce.

“Marianne?” Bog finishes, turning it into a question. It has to be her, he’s sure it’s her. 

“Oh my God, Bog?” recognition lights up her whiskey coloured eyes and Bog is forced to swallow. Her smile is blinding in its intensity, he remembers a time when making her smile used to be his only goal in life, after her mother passed away.

“You two know each other?” Thang’s voice is distant and Bog barely registers it.

There is heavy dark make-up around her eyes and her ears are pierced to the max, but that pixie nose dotted with freckles is unforgettable. He wishes he would suddenly find her less attractive, that his heart would stop racing a mile-a-minute but that doesn’t happen. He feels like he should stand up but he knows it would give away just _how_ _happy_ he is to see her. Besides he’d probably bump the table, spilling the drinks, and making a complete fool of himself so he stays seated.  

She doesn’t hesitate in taking the seat opposite him, “Holy Shit, it’s been _forever_.”

He’s only slightly unnerved by her swearing, what is worrying him more is the images of her dancing are still running through his mind. There are some people you meet and are in your life for a short time and then you never expect to see them again. Marianne Faye had been one of those people. After he left for collage his mother sold their family home and moved to an apartment in the city, he’d never had any reason to return to the suburb of his teenage years.

“So, how _do_ you two know each other exactly?” Stuff asked, taking the empty seat next to Bog, diagonal to Marianne.

“Bog was my babysitter” Marianne says with a tinkling laugh and Bog wishes the floor beneath his seat would open up and swallow him whole, chair and all.

Stuff finally seems to see the issue and looks rightfully apologetic, Bog has a moment of feeling smug justification, he had told her trying to hook him up was a bad idea and this was a worst case scenario. Thang still seems blissfully unaware; Bog isn’t sure if he should pity him or be envious. 

“I have _this_ guy to thank for turning me on to horror movies and classic rock” she says before taking a pull from her own bottle of beer. He sees a glimpse of ink on her upper arm, hidden by the sleeve of her top.

Hell, if he didn’t feel old before he does now, _little_ Marianne Faye should not be legal drinking age. Temporary tattoos had been all the rage when he’d known her and now she had a real one. He’s trying to picture her in the ratty denim overalls and neon green t-shirt she used to wear, the one with the oversized pink flower on it and the white ball cap with the purple butterfly that was an ever present accessory to any outfit, anything to erase how she looks now; _hot_.

The memories came back to him unbidden, sitting in the Faye’s always pristine Livingroom, honestly it looked like something out of a _Better Homes_ issue, not really meant to be lived in, just for show. He’d let Marianne stay up way past her bedtime, he’d watch anything with Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, and Vincent Price in it while Marianne sat in silent awe beside him, she’d never scream but sometimes she would hide under a blanket. She always stayed out with him until it was over though; he’d lost count of how many times she’d be running down the hall to her room as her parents pulled in the drive.   

That changed too after her mother’s death. The few times he looked after the girls after the accident Marianne had shut herself away in her room and cried herself to sleep. Her endless sobs of agony had haunted him, an echo of his own loneliness from losing his father.

“You should let me buy you a drink” he says when she takes the last mouthful of hers. It comes out sounding less smooth than it had in his head. He brings his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tick he’s carried over from his youth. 

“Thanks, but maybe another time” she flashes him a smile that seems genuine.

“Where’s the bathroom in this place?” she asks turning to Stuff.

“Down in the back corner, come on, I’ll show you” Stuff answers rising from her chair.

Bog watches the two woman walk down the hall and Stuff turns around to give him double thumbs up. Bog shakes his head in a frantic “no” his eyes wide with fear, but the gesture seems lost on Stuff. He loves Stuff as a wingman but tonight she’s outdone herself and Bog can’t even be grateful.

Thang watches the girls walk off in utter befuddlement, “they just met, how can they be bathroom buddies already?”

Bog merely shrugs; it’s a woman thing, something else he’ll never understand.  

What feels like ages later Marianne and Stuff are walking back towards the table and Stuff is laughing at something Marianne has said, no doubt an embarrassing tidbit from Bog’s past.

Marianne checks her phone and her face falls just a bit, “my sister’s on her way” she says upon reaching the table, “I should go wait outside.”

“I’ll wait with you” Bog says, standing before he loses his nerve.

Her smile returns for a fraction, “okay, thanks. It was nice meeting you!” She waves to Stuff and Thang.

Bog looks back only once and Stuff and Thang give him reassuring smiles and thumbs up.

The cool night air feels amazing on his face and bare arms Bog hadn’t realized how warm he’d been in the club. 

“How is Dawn anyway?” he asks as they both casually lean up against the brick wall. 

“Dawn’s great, out on a date tonight actually with Sunny, do you remember Sunny?” She asks looking at him sideways, she holds out her hand to indicate someone of a short stature. 

Bog vaguely remembers the name, so he nods, “what happened to “ _boys are yucky and have cooties_?”

Marianne lets out a gleeful laugh, “yeah, that phase didn’t last as long as dad would have liked.”

“What about you?” he asks turning slightly to look at her, and damn that’s a mistake, her pale face glows with the light of the moon and she’s absolutely beautiful.

Her frown returns and her eyes get a faraway look to them as if she can no longer see the things in front of her.

“There was someone” her voice is soft, distant, “but I’m better off alone” she adds with resolve, there is a driving force behind those words, that’s not the first time she’s said them.

_If she says something enough times she’ll believe it to be true…_

He is at once both relieved and enraged. 

Relieved that at least she’s not looking at him as a potential date but enraged that her heart has been so badly broken.

“They tell you all the warning signs of an abusive partner, and you think “ _that’ll never be me_. _I’m too smart, too strong, I would never let a guy control me like that_.” What they don’t warn you about is mental abuse, the backhanded compliments, the minor suggestions that sound so reasonable at the time.”  Her voice is barely above a whisper but the words are spoken in that same calm resolution.

Even though it’s unrealistic he thinks, _I should have been there, I could have warned her about the bad guys._  

There is a picture somewhere in his mother’s crowded apartment of him in his high school graduation gown flanked by Marianne and Dawn, it harkens back to a simpler time when they were both innocent. 

“It was really nice seeing you” Marianne says pulling herself from her dark thoughts, “we should catch up sometime in a place I can actually hear myself think” she smiles at him expectantly and he looks back at her blankly.

“So, if you want to give me your phone, I could give you my number” she speaks each word slowly and deliberate and gives a small laugh when realization dawns on Bog’s face.

He fumbles getting his phone out of the pocket of his jeans but she inputs her info like a pro. 

A red VW Bug pulls up to the curb just as Marianne hands Bog his cell back, she starts to go then turns and runs back to him.

“I almost forgot” she says jumping up on her toes she kisses him hard and quick on the cheek, “happy birthday Bog!”

She flashes him another smile from the window of the car and he feels his insides melt.

Bog goes back into the club, a stupid grin plastered on his face, he can’t see it but he can feel it.

His two friends look at him expectantly as he reclaims his chair.

“Hold your applause” Stuff says with an air of confidence, throwing out her hand.

“Wha- _no_ ” Thang says whipping his head back and forth between Bog and Stuff in disbelief.

“She gave me her number” Bog says with a distant wonder, this can’t be real, it’s not happening, these types of things don’t happen to guys like him. 

“You owe me a beer” Stuff says smugly to Thang who gets up to comply. 


	3. Summer 1997

“Do you want to see our dance routine?” Marianne asks Bog.

He is barely in the door and already she’s hounding him with questions. 

Marianne is wearing navy track pants with a white stripe down the side and a neat row of silver snaps that run from her ankle to her knee. She’s wearing brand new white and navy Reebok’s that have never known dirt and her chin length hair is pulled into a high pony tail. Her t-shirt is white but the lettering on it is multi-coloured, _Spice Girls_ , it reads.

“Sure” Bog says still trying to pull his shoe off, _either my feet have grown or the Chucks have shrunk_ , he thinks. His mum won’t be happy, she’d spent a lot of money on those shoes that Bog just _had to have_. A present for his good grades.

He’s already tall and gangly and no matter how much he eats he never seems to gain any weight. By the end of the summer his new blue jeans will be two inches too short and some of his favourite t-shits will ride up when he raises his arms. “ _That boy is growing like a bad weed_ ” he overheard his mother scold.

Marianne and Dawn have worked all week on a dance routine to their new favourite song, “Wannabe.” Some of the moves are a little risqué for children so young, there seems to be a lot of hip movements and sassy finger snapping. Bog is more than a little uncomfortable watching and knows the meanings behind the words the girls are simply parroting. 

Dawn’s baby curls have been separated as best they could into, admittedly cute, pigtails. She’s in a baby blue valor track suit, a bubble-gum pink t-shirt underneath her zippered sweater. 

The girls end their performance back-to-back, hands on their hips, smug and a little sweaty. Bog applauds politely even as he shifts restlessly on the couch. 

“I’m Sporty Spice” Marianne says haughty, in a bad attempt at a British accent.

“And I’m Baby” Dawn adds, full of attitude, before popping her thumb in her mouth.

Marianne throws up a peace sign before turning and marching out of the room, an exaggerated wiggle rocks her body side-to-side as she does. Dawn copies her and the conviction in her movements put Bog over the edge. He laughs hardily at the fake attitude the girls try to convey, it’s really not their style.

Bog thinks of the girls his age that he sees at school, they are _all_ attitude, they make and break friendships in the same day, create and disband cliques in a week. He has a fleeting hope that Marianne and Dawn won’t grow up to be like that. He hopes to preserve the memory of them small like this forever, young and innocent; untouched by the meaning of song lyrics.

Bog spends the afternoon teaching them about _real_ music. Mr. Faye’s tapes seem to consist of stuffy classical music but the new Compact Disks are Mrs. Faye’s and Bog shares her taste in music. She has Joan Jett , Heart, KISS, and Michael Jackson, Bog sings along to “Bad” as he takes turns spinning the girls around the Livingroom.  Dawn takes to the beat instantly and hops up alongside him, she grabs his finger and he spins her around in dizzying circles, he laughs as she walks away staggering slightly.

Marianne sings back at him and really gets her shoulders in on her dance moves. Their voices harmonize over the chorus, “because I’m bad/ I’m bad come on/ you know I’m bad.”

Bog has both of Marianne’s hands in his for the first time, he’s slightly bent over to be more at her level and as they sing and move their bodies he realizes this is officially the first time he can say he’s danced with a girl. He thinks he should feel weird that it’s Marianne, but oddly enough it doesn’t. In fact it feels the opposite, he gives her a huge crooked tooth grin and lets go of one hand to spin her out into the room.

For her part she returns his grin with a smile of her own and a screech of joy. When he leans forward she dips back and vice versa. She mimics Bog’s foot movements, uses the power of her legs to lift herself up onto her toes. He spins her out to the last beat of the song and she lets go allowing herself to fall to the floor in a giggling heap. 

Mrs. Faye comes home early and Bog doesn’t feel like going home himself. His mum has to work late and the prospect of being in the empty house alone is daunting. Most teenagers would relish being home alone for a night but after being at the Faye’s a house so full of love and energy Bog knows he would feel the void left by his father even stronger tonight.

Mr. Faye is out of town on work and Mrs. Faye asks Bog if he’d like to stay for dinner. He wonders if she is a mind reader, could somehow sense his own rising dread. With a smile he hopes doesn’t seem too eager he gives a polite, “yes please” as a response. 

The Faye’s eat differently than Bog does at home with his mother. They actually sit around the long dining room table and eat together, as a family. Marianne and Dawn sit on one side of the table and a place for him has been set on the opposite side. Mrs. Faye takes the seat at the head of the table.

Dawn eyes him for several moments before snickering.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, eyeing her back.

“You’re in daddy’s chair that makes you the king!” Dawn’s glee threatened to overflow.

Bog looked to Marianne for help, but the answer came from Mrs. Faye.

“Robert calls the girls his “little princesses” she explained.

Bog found the whole situation more humorous than necessary because of his last name.

“I on the other hand” Mrs. Faye continued, “call them my little butterflies.” She gives the girls each a caring smile before frowning at Marianne.

Bog looks over to see what the matter is. They are having barbequed chicken for supper with large helpings of potato salad and coleslaw on the side. Marianne has BBQ sauce smeared from one side of her face to the other in a horrible parody of lipstick.

All at once he starts laughing and finds himself unable to stop, it isn’t long before Mrs. Faye’s stern glare fades and she too is laughing. Bog can’t believe he got to be a part of this happy moment, and as he looks around the table he hopes to have a family like this one someday. Two kids, a loving wife, and they’ll sit at a table together and talk about their days. They’ll have a dog or cat, or maybe both, and late at night after the kids have gone to bed, he and his wife will stay up late and watch horror movies together. Yes, to all outward appearances the Faye’s seem like the perfect family.

Appearances can be deceiving.  

As Bog is getting ready to leave, Mrs. Faye was already kind enough to pay him, the sounds of feet on the stairs make him turn. Marianne is wearing a purple pajama set, ankle length bottoms and a three-quarter length top, she has a book in her hand.

“I promised you could read it when I was done” she says handing him the soft covered book.

He takes it and looks at the cover, ‘ _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,_ ’ “Ah, thanks, I’ll give it back to you once I’ve finished.” He gives her a nod and then he’s out the door.

Later that night Bog lays in bed, trying to drown out the silence of the empty house. He wishes he had a large family to fill the house with noise, he wishes he had a younger brother to argue with and a younger sister to play with like he does with the Faye girls. He looks over at his otherwise sparse bedside table where Marianne’s book sits, staring back at him. Impulsively he grabs it.  

There is a hand written inscription on the inside first page;

“To my darling Butterfly,

May you never forget the magic of words.

So proud of you Princess!

Love always, mom & dad”

He flipped the page and began to read:

“ _Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much._ ” 

He reads until midnight, unable to put the book down, spellbound by the pacing, the “ _what is going to happen next_ ” that drives the whole thing forward. When he does put the book down it is reluctantly and out of necessity.  He sleeps until late the next morning and when he does wake up the first thing he does is set to finishing the book.

Over the next two years Harry Potter becomes just one of the many things they bond over. It is Bog who gives Marianne the third book, he had bought a copy for himself too. He gives it to her the last time he saw her before he left. 

At first Marianne refuses to read the book. A week later when her curiosity about Harry and the gang gets the best of her she opens the cover to find a messy scrawl;

Tough Girl,   

I’m glad we get to share this.

  * BK



 

By the end of that first summer Marianne has traded peace signs for rock hands. In her room hangs a picture of her, Dawn, and Bog, their faces painted to look like the members of KISS. Marianne is The Starchild, Dawn is The Catman, and Bog is The Demon. The picture is made all the better by the fact Bog is also wearing one of Dawn’s princess tiaras, this along with her _Harry Potter_ books become her most treasured possessions.


	4. Spring 2009

Bog woke from the best dream ever to a raging hangover and the most annoying ringtone imaginable. Bog threw out his hand into the dark abyss of his room in hopes of connecting with the bedside table where he presumed his phone lay calling to him in that obnoxious voice;

“A _nswer the phone, it’s your mother calling_ ”

Bog growled as he answered the call but didn’t get a word out as his actual’s mother’s voice was on the other end of the line.  

“Happy Birthday son!” she cried before starting in on all the gory details of the 23 hour labour he had made her endure, which was followed by a hundred questions about the night before that he didn’t have a hope of answering.

 Bog stumbled his way out to the tiny apartment kitchen clad only in his socks, boxers, and the faded grey t-shirt he had slept in. 

“Last night was fine mum” he managed to mumble out as he filled the kettle in preparation for making tea. 

“Did you meet any nice girls?” she inquired, “you know Debbie that I used to work with, she’s got a daughter and…”

Bog tuned his mother out; he refused to let her set him up on another date. Besides, ‘nice’ girls did not go to the types of clubs he frequented. Then he remembered running into Marianne.

“What was that dear?” his mother asked, and Bog realised too late he must of said her name aloud.

Bog cleared his throat “do you remember Marianne Faye?” he asked his mother.

“Oh yes, that cute little girl you used to babysit, why do you ask dear?” his mother’s inquiry was all innocence.

He winched at her phrasing, images of the night before threatened to fill up his mind. Bog could easily evade the question if he chose but instead found himself saying, “I ran into her, last night.”

“Oh, well that’s nice dear, I heard she was engaged to some fellow from her father’s company, a perfect match from what I hear” Griselda prattled on and Bog didn’t have a hope of cutting her off and telling her how wrong she was. His mother then proceeded to talk his ear off about all the latest gossip she had heard.

The rest of Bog’s birthday passed relatively uneventful. He popped into work for a few hours, being the owner of his own business Bog could afford such a luxury, before going off to meet his mum for dinner. She had made all his favourite dishes and topped the whole thing off with a homemade chocolate cake.

He should have realized it was all too good to me true. His mother finished the evening off by informing him he would be taking Debbie’s daughter out on Friday night, preferably somewhere nice.

***

Marianne was having the worst week of her life. Well _second_ worse week. Second only to the week she lost her mother. Tears pricked at her eyes and she shook her head that was the last thing she needed to think about. After months of silence her no-good, rotten, pig-headed, cheater of an ex had showed up at her door insisting, _insisting_ , that they not only get back together, to preserve his public image no less, but that they actually get married! Marianne was beyond furious, he’d had a ring and everything, had gotten down on one knee, the whole nine yards, on Marianne’s shoddy apartment stoop.  

For the second time this week Marianne sought solace in the anonymity of the club scene. She gets lost in the crowd as she had the other night, let’s herself be swept away by the music. Only tonight her heart isn’t in it and she spends more time getting drinks at the bar than tearing up the dance floor. Every stranger looks like Roland. The crowd feels like it’s swallowing her to the point where she can’t breathe. She needs to get out of here. She needs to get out now!

Bog finds himself surprised but ultimately pleased when he runs in to Marianne, quite literally. If he hadn’t only just seen her the other day Bog knows he wouldn’t have recognized her tonight. She’s wearing ripped up jeans and a black razor-back tank-top. He can see the tattoo on her upper arm is that of a purple butterfly. She bumps into his side and brushes past him, not looking up from the floor. She is clearly distracted; impulsively he reaches out to her, and grabs her arm.  

“Marianne” Bog asked, concern lacing his voice.

She turns to meet her attacker, hand curled into a fist Marianne swings a punch at him, but Bog is quick and uses his free hand to stop the hit connecting. His hand engulfs her fist and finally she looks up at him. Recognitions dawns instantly in her eyes and she collapses against him. Marianne pressed her forehead into his chest, her shoulders heaving as the hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Something had rattled her to the core. Bog moved quickly, wrapping his long awkward arms around her to stop her falling to the ground.

His date had gone about as well as he had expected. The woman had been very pretty, with long shimmering black hair and wide dark eyes. She was in public relations, or marketing, Bog couldn’t be bothered to remember which. When he told her he ran his own business, the Dark Forest Games and Comic Book Shop, she’d giggled politely until with horror she realised he wasn’t kidding. 

“That Place is so dark and dingy in there. It’s a wonder you have any customers at all.” She’d insulted, and then changed pace offering tips and advice as to better promote his business and make it friendlier to patrons.

“Why don’t you come by my office on Monday, I’ll even give you a free consolation for being such a sweetie.” She flashed him a smile that bordered on a sneer as she handed over her business card.  

Bog had disposed of the business card in the trash on his way out of the restaurant and made his way to the nearest bar. After such dates Bog always found himself in the nearest bar. They were nothing but cruel reminders of just how hideous he was. How utterly unlovable he’d become. 

Bog shook his head returning to the present. Marianne continued to sob into his chest and her shoulders shook violently. He held her tighter hoping to give her something to ground her. He bent his head so that his lips were level with her ear.

“Come on _Tough Girl_ , let’s get out of here.” He growled low and dangerous.

His eyes moved around the club, still looking for the threat that had shaken Marianne. No patrons hindered them as they made their way to the exit. Marianne stumbled on her still unsteady legs and would have fallen more than once had Bog’s strong arm not been there at her waist to catch her.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Bog asked once he and Marianne were situated in his car.

Marianne sniffed and shook her head no. 

“I-I ca-can’t” she stammered through her sobs.

Marianne couldn’t face going back to her apartment. Not tonight. The safety and sanctuary it had provided in the last few months had been violated by the presence of Roland showing up. Unexpected, unwanted, and uninvited, _how had he even found her_? Marianne felt so weak for crying in front of Bog like that. He hadn’t seen her cry since her mom’s funeral, when she was nine.

“What about yer sister?” Bog asked.

“No” Marianne whispered. Dawn lived on her university campus in residence. 

It would be impolite for Marianne to show up like that. Besides Dawn might not even be in, she could be at Sunny’s or out with friends.  

Marianne wasn’t in a good place right now, Bog could tell. She had suffered a panic attack in the club and was now shutting down completely. She couldn’t be alone right now. If something happened to her and he could have prevented it. Bog would never forgive himself. 

Decision made Bog started the car and Marianne startled as the engine roared to life. It wasn’t a fancy car. Practical for getting around, it had a sleek and shiny silver exterior and a well-kept black leather interior. The car was more than a few years old but Bog took care of it, much like everything he owned.  

“Where are we going?” Marianne asked, once Bog had pulled out of the parking lot. 

“My place” Bog stated briefly, “you can stay there for tonight and figure things out in the morning.”

He wasn’t going to ask her what happened. He just knew she couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 

Marianne sunk into the couch at Bog’s place. She felt dead inside, as if all her emotions had been used up. Her stomach rolled and she prayed she wouldn’t get sick. She grabbed an old crochet blanket from the back of the sofa that she knew Bog’s Scottish grandmother had made and wrapped herself up in it. Bog came into the living room a minute later with two pieces of lightly buttered toast, a glass of water and a Tylenol.  

Bog joined her on the sofa and pretty soon he was flicking through the channels looking for something to watch. It was only early, not yet ten o’clock. Bog stopped on something that was black and white, Marianne recognized it instantly as _Nosferatu_ , all at once her memories of staying up late watching all the classic horror movies with Bog came back to her. She was overcome with the sudden emotion and perked up a bit as she watched the movie and nibbled at her toast while sipping her water.

A rush of nostalgia was affecting Bog as well. He remembered his childhood dream of having a large family. Watching horror films with a woman he loved. He didn’t think he’d get that now but watching this with Marianne was certainly second best. It was just like when he used to babysit her. He didn’t realise how close they were sitting until her head gently connected with his shoulder.   

Bog felt his lips stretch into a smile. Now that they had reconnected, and were adults, maybe he and Marianne could be friends. It would be nice, he thought. The movie finished and Bog turned off the TV more than ready to get some sleep. He turned his head to see if Marianne was still asleep on his shoulder when she caught his lips in a kiss.

Marianne had been watching Bog more than she’d watched the movie. She had scooted over close to be near him. He had such an interesting profile. He had been her first crush, although she wouldn’t have admitted it at the time. Marianne transfixed her gaze on his lips and had the sudden urge to kiss them. She leaned forward just as he turned his head and their lips connected. 

“Marianne what are ye doing?” Bog asked, dryly, the words a mumble against her lips.

She had obviously had more to drink than even he suspected if she was trying to make a move on him. 

When she didn’t get the response from him she was hoping for Marianne leaned away from him. She felt her face flush warm with embarrassment. Stupid, _stupid_ girl, she thought, of course he doesn’t want you. Damaged as she was, not to mention he probably still thought of her as the little girl he used to babysit.  

“Sorry, I’m sorry” Marianne whispered, shocked and ashamed at her own rashness.   

When she had told Dawn about running into Bog her sister had made all kinds of insinuations about the chance meeting. 'It's fate' she had proclaimed. Dawn had encouraged Marianne to make the call, to reconnect with Bog. It would be good for her. All of Dawn's talk must have gone to her head. What had she been thinking? Marianne touched her fingers to her traitorous lips.

Bog stood up, twisting his back so that it cracked. He ran his hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp. 

“It’s alright” he assured her. He rubbed his hand down along his scruffy jaw. Gods he must be a ghastly sight. He briefly touched his lips, _why had she tried to kiss him_?

Bog was wondering if he should offer to sleep on the couch and let Marianne have his bed when she made the decision for him.

“I’ll be fine on the couch” she said.

The old sofa creaked underneath her weight as she adjusted herself. Bog turned to see her all snuggled under the old blanket, the same one that used to lie over the back of his mother’s couch in their family home. She looked so out of place in his colourless apartment living room with her bright purple hair, a spark of something bright in his dark life. 

“Goodnight, Marianne” he said, offering her a short, sad smile. _I’m right down the hall if you need anything._ He left the words unsaid.  

“Goodnight Bog, and thank you” Marianne rolled over, turning her face into the couch, her back to the room.  

She had obviously had a long and difficult day. Unable to offer her comfort Bog left Marianne to sleep on his couch.


	5. Summer 1998

“I’ll have your head on a stick!” Marianne shouted as she chased Bog across the backyard while his cousin, Plum, sat idly by and watched.

Plum and Dawn are laughing loud and hard at the antics of the two. Marianne really does have a stick in her hand; the threat of danger is real. Once again Bog is playing villain to her brave knight.

“Gee Bog, when you said you had a girlfriend, I didn’t picture you as the ‘robbing the cradle’ type.”  Plum teases him from a safe distance.

Bog’s long legs are made for out-running tiny brats but his cousin’s words make him falter and Marianne pounces. She leaps effortlessly up onto his back and throws her arms around his neck, whacking him over the head with her stick in the process.

“She’s, -OW- _not_ my girlfriend” he growls, even as he loops his arms through Marianne’s knees to keep her from falling off. She is barefoot. She’s always barefoot, like some woodland sprite.

Dawn and Plum laugh all the harder, especially when Marianne scrunches her nose distastefully at the notion. 

At sixteen, Bog _does_ have a girlfriend at least he _thinks_ he does. They go to the movies together and shyly hold hands in the dark theatre. Bog treats her to dinner on pay-day weeks and generally spends a lot of time thinking about her. They’ve gone bowling a few times with some of his friends but he’s never met any of the people who always seemed to surround her in the halls at school. Her name is Sherry and Bog is in love. Well, at least he _thinks_ he is.

Plum is minding the girls for him tonight while he takes Sherry out for dinner and an ice cream. He thinks tonight will be the night he kisses her, if he doesn’t chicken out; again. 

A sharp pain to his right thigh brings him out of his day dream, Marianne has successfully wacked him in the leg.  

“Leave off Tough Girl” he growls and fakes trying to throw her from his back.

She screeches in his ear with glee and digs her nails into his boney shoulders for his troubles.        

“Well isn’t that _just_ adorable” a smooth feminine voice calls. 

Everyone turns to face the new arrival. Dawn instantly pulls her face into a moue; she can sense the change in the air around her.

 Bog has gone very still, he feels silly for having been caught horsing around and lets Marianne slide off his back. 

Marianne stands behind Bog glowering at the strange woman who is taking her babysitter away. Bog doesn’t notice the change in either of the girls, he’s too busy admiring Sherry. She is tall for a girl and has long light brown hair that curls around her rounded face. She’s wearing some light make-up with denim capris and a pastel t-shirt and low-rise sneakers. Bog thinks she looks very pretty, and something in his chest gives an odd lurch at the sight of her standing there in the Faye’s driveway.

“Ah just have to run inside for a minute” Bog called before making a dash into the house.

Marianne walked over to the strange girl and the feeling of discontent grew. 

“I don’t like you” Marianne said, looking up at the teen, her frown still firmly in place. She didn’t mind being blunt.

The older girl looked down at Marianne and sneered, “I don’t care” she said, making sure to make the little kid feel inferior with every syllable. 

Sherry didn’t like kids. She had a younger brother who was _super_ annoying.  

Plum carried Dawn on her hip over to where the odd little standoff was happening.

“Hi, I’m Plum” Plum introduced, extending a hand while maintaining her grip on the child, “I’m Bog’s cousin.” 

Sherry pulled a face Marianne assumed was meant to mimic a smile but the gesture fell short. It never reached her eyes, and she never extended her hand to great Plum. 

“So nice of him to burden you with the little brats so he could go out with me” Sherry said. Her tone implied she did not envy Plum’s position and didn’t seem to appreciate what Bog was giving up to go with her.   

Plum’s perma-smile fell to a frown, she was not one to judge others but something was off about this whole situation.  

Marianne continued to glare daggers at Sherry, she didn’t like her and it was frustrating because she didn’t know why.

Sherry knew though. 

“Jealousy is so unbecoming” she whispered, leaning down into Marianne’s face, her bright green eyes making contact with Marianne’s hazel ones.

Taken aback Marianne leaned away from the older girl, she didn’t like having her personal space violated like that. 

Marianne barred her teeth and growled, “I am not jealous of _you_ ” she hissed, low and feral.  

Something twisted in Marianne’s gut, _am I_? She thought. She suddenly felt nauseous.

She heard Bog approaching their odd little group and gave a guilty start when he spoke.

“All set ta’ go?” he asked dangling his mother’s car keys proudly before him, oblivious to the tension in the air. 

The blue Ford Focus had seen better days but Bog was so pleased to have been able to borrow his mother’s car, Sherry’s disapproving look didn’t even register with him.

With a cruel twist of her lips aimed at Marianne, Sherry latched on to Bog’s arm and pulled him close.

“I’m ready if you are” she said sweetly, nuzzling her short but pointed nose against Bog’s slightly rough cheek. 

He was surprised by the sudden show of affection but pleased all the same. Usually he had to fight just to hold her hand and now his arm was brushing against her breasts, and that was too much, surely he was going to explode from the amount of blood warming his face.

“Thanks again Plum!” Bog called as Sherry started pulling him away from the little group. 

“Ah’ll see you later!” Bog’s not sure what time he’ll be back. Tonight might be his lucky night after all.

“She’s going to be a little heartbreaker when she’s older” Sherry says, once they’re both in the car.

“Who?” Bog asked confused, his pleasant dazed state drifting away at the slight chill in his girlfriend’s voice.

“Who?” Sherry replies, a note of incredibility in her voice, she gives a mirthless laugh, “why _Marianne_ of course.” She says, flipping her silky strands over her shoulder.  

Sherry batted her eyelashes at him and Bog felt his insides melt again. He was so lucky. Bog had no idea how he managed to gain the most beautiful girl at school as his girlfriend the summer before his senior year.  Two years ago Sherry Green wouldn’t have given him the time of day and now she was sitting in the passenger side of his mum’s beat-up clunker and they were on their way to a date.

***

“Did you see her face” Marianne says after they’ve left, and she puffs out her cheeks.

Plum let loose a burst of laughter at the rather spot on impression of Sherry’s rounded face before covering her mouth.

“That’s rude Marianne; don’t make fun of Bog’s girlfriend.” Plum said, all the while trying to keep a straight face.

“I didn’t like her either” Dawn admitted, rather shyly, “is that wrong?”

Plum’s face fell back into a neutral frown before setting down Dawn and looking between the girls.

Very seriously she addressed them, “the way Sherry acted was wrong, I hope neither of you ever treat another woman the way she did you. One day when you’re older you’ll find a person that makes you happy. You will want to do anything to make them look at you a certain way, but one thing you must never do is give up doing the thing you love most.”

 Plum did her best to warn about and protect the girls from future heartbreak. Plum was going to be starting Esthetics School in the fall so she spent the night pampering the girls, painting their nails and playing with their hair. Marianne had been growing her hair out since the previous summer and there was lots of it for Plum to work with.

Initially Plum had allowed Marianne to stay up to wait for Bog to return, but as the clock struck 9:30 Plum insisted she go to bed. Marianne put up a good fuss, she had really wanted to show Bog how Plum had curled her hair and her nails were now a glittery purple colour. Reluctantly she had gone to bed. When a car pulled in the drive at 9:45 Marianne snuck back out of bed and down the hallway, intending to show Bog her new look after all.

Bog felt lighter than air and warm on the inside as if someone had lit a fire in his stomach. Not only had he gotten a kiss goodnight, he had received several, in a long secession which left him gasping for breath. He hadn’t even had to ask. When Bog had pulled into Sherry’s driveway she quite literally pounced on him! What was to be a special moment, his first kiss, had actually turned into a rather forced first make-out session. His good mood evaporated when his stern faced cousin opened the front door of the Faye’s home.  

Plum’s usually bright eyes were hard and a frown creased her brow. She stood in the foyer tapping her foot rhythmically. In her state of fury it was easy to see the family resemblance to his mother’s side. Plum’s lip twitched the same way his mother’s did just before she was starting a speech, the kind that started with his full name and ended with ‘go to your room.’ 

“Bog” instead she said his name in low and dangerous hiss which frightened him more.

“Get in” she hissed, rolling her eyes she pulled him inside the Faye’s door so she could shut it.  

“So, how was your date, lover boy?” she teased playfully, deciding to change tactics.

“Fine” Bog said, removing his shoes and following his cousin back up the stairs to the living room.

“Good. It was –ah- lovely” he said and Bog could feel a pull in his face as his lips stretched into a smile. “Really nice” he confirmed with a nod of his head. 

“I’m glad you had a good time” Plum said, turning to him, and she meant it, “but.” Here she faltered.

“But?” Bog asked his worry returning.  

“You have to be more careful around Dawna and Marianne. They are two impressionable young girls, and maybe you don’t see it, but they look up to you.” Plum had been practicing what she was going to say to her cousin, she had to make sure she got it all out before she lost her nerve. 

“I think Marianne might even have a bit of a crush on you” at his look of protest Plum rushed on, “all I’m saying is just think before you speak.”  

Bog was left feeling uneasy at Plum’s words, “I dinnea think Marianne has a crush on me” he grumbled.

Plum shoot him a significant look, raising her eyebrow, “all little kids have crushes on their babysitters, it’s like a law or something.”

Bog doubted this, “did you?” he asked mockingly.

“Yes, her name was Ellen and she had the most beautiful long red hair.” Plum splayed her hand over her heart. 

Bog snorted.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful?” Plum asked in earnest.

“Will it make ye happy?” Bog probed.

“Yes” she hissed back.

“Fine” Bog huffed, sitting down in the wing backed chair, “I promise to be careful around the girls.” 

Bog glanced at the clock, it was almost ten; the Faye’s should have been home by now.

After overhearing Plum and Bog’s argument Marianne snuck her way back to bed. She didn’t feel much like showing Bog her new look. Staring in the mirror Marianne pulled at the ringlets, dragging her fingers through them, destroying Plum’s hard work in mere seconds. It was only afterwards she felt guilty and wished she had of left them to show her mother in the morning.


End file.
